Visions

Chapter 7

Jasmine smiled the whole way home from Magpies. Tokola had done the impossible – turned Jasmine's head. I gave her the swoony eyes and headed for my front door, while Luke's voice saying Kai couldn't take his eyes off me rattled around in my mind.

Mom was grilling Dad when I walked inside, so I stayed quiet. "How dare you talk to him before you talked to me?"

"The Chief approached me," Dad said. "I didn't give him any answers." He sounded tired. How long had this been going on?

"I don't want her involved in that yet." There was no fatigue in Mom's voice. She was ready to fight to the thirteenth round.

"We may not be able to prevent it."

I tiptoed toward the kitchen.

Mom braced herself against the sink, stared out the window. "Oh, I'll stop it, all right."

How could she stop it? If the police needed my help to catch a criminal, I was going to do it. Dad walked up and wrapped his arms around her waist. "We knew this day might come."

Mom turned around, grabbed Dad's shoulders. "She's not ready."

"Kim, she's strong."

"She hasn't been exposed to anything. How do you know how strong she is?"

"She's your girl."

"Jared, have you forgotten?" She stared into his eyes. "Certain things."

Certain things? What did that mean? I stepped into the kitchen. "Mom, I'm not a baby anymore."

She pointed a shaky finger at me. "You're my baby. My only one. And what I say goes until you're eighteen."

"I want to do this." I crossed my arms. "I have a gift and an obligation to use it."

Mom walked over and put her hand on my cheek. "You're too young to know what you're saying. What you're getting into."

"I am not." I ducked away from her hand. She was going to ruin everything - the ride-alongs, the hands-on experience, the police academy rolling out the red carpet. I couldn't let that happen. "It's not like I'll be alone. There'll be at least one cop with me at all times, right Dad?" But Mom just shook her head. I pulled my hands into fists. "Can't you just loosen the reins a little?"

"Bailey, give us a minute." Dad tried to shoo me out of the kitchen.

"But you're talking about me. Doesn't what I want matter?"

Mom's face turned to stone. "No."

"You know what, Mom? You need a hobby or something." Heat rose up my neck. "Why didn't you have any more kids? Were you worried they'd turn out like me?"

Mom's hand flew to her mouth and she spun around.

Dad grabbed my elbow and steered me out of the kitchen. "Bailey, go to your room. Don't come out until I tell you."

"Seriously?" He'd always been my ally when Mom freaked out, but he just stared at me, the skin tight around his eyes, and pointed toward my room.

I stomped up the stairs, making sure they heard every step. Then I shoved my door toward the wall, craving the slam and the rattle of the walls. But I caught it before it hit. No need to completely obliterate my chances that Dad might talk some sense into Mom.

I eased the door closed and nodded to gorgeous Michael Greyeyes on the poster tacked to the back of my door. Then I pressed some buttons on my phone and filled my room with Carlos Nakai's cedar flute music. Talk about a gift. Even if it had been born out of tragedy.